


i've been thinking about the different things that make me worry so

by ardentdread



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Awkward Kageyama Tobio, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Future Fic, Getting Together, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, M/M, POV Hinata Shouyou, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 12:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17940143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentdread/pseuds/ardentdread
Summary: The first time he meets Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou is filled with hatred and the desire to kick his ass.Although it was a declaration short-lived once the play finally commenced and he was left with a bruise in his pride and a few on his arms as well. However, he has refused the temptation of surrender and once again declared greater things for himself. He just didn’t expect working together with his rival in order to succeed in his own assertions. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to develop feelings that are irrelevant to volleyball for his setter.In this matter, Shouyou decides to fuck fate and take everything in his own hands.





	i've been thinking about the different things that make me worry so

The first time he meets Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou is filled with hatred and the desire to kick his ass.

Although it was a declaration short-lived once the play finally commenced and he was left with a bruise in his pride and a few on his arms as well. However, he has refused the temptation of surrender and once again declared greater things for himself. He just didn’t expect working together with his rival in order to succeed in his own assertions. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to develop feelings that are irrelevant to volleyball for his setter.

In this matter, Shouyou decides to fuck fate and take everything in his own hands.

* * *

 

It's a lot more complicated than aiming for a good serve, Hinata thinks.

Here he is in front of Tobio's apartment. The door faces him, its bleak, chipping surface stares blankly at his short stature. Despite the years his past self has lived by, he has remained the same as he has always been: short. Kageyama has never let this down and regularly takes advantage of his height, despite the fact that Shouyou has grown, but not tremendously as his rival.

Rival. A word he has and will continuously so associate with one bastard setter. Even at 19 years old, with a title to his name as one of the top three aces of Japan, Hinata Shouyou still considers Kageyama Tobio, volleyball genius and setter extraordinaire, his rival despite being in different positions.

It’s always been like this, since the beginning of his high school year and intensified volleyball training. Never did he ever think he’d be running alone in the race towards the victors’ sky. He would look up and see the view from the other side, where he knows he’ll see the sight of triumph painted in the curves of the clouds and sky’s shades of blue, and know that beside him Kageyama is there. He is aware of his strong, chaotic presence. Little did he know, Kageyama’s gloomy persona has made a tremendous impact in Shouyou’s life.

But Kageyama can be a goddamn bastard sometimes. Nevertheless, Shouyou likes him anyway.

Now he stands. The apartment door continues to mock him. Shouyou knows it is merely a concrete thing. It’s not bothering him and it shouldn’t. The thing that’s bothering him is his fucking feelings, the abstract thing that Shouyou does not necessarily abhor, however thinks is pointless especially when it’s constantly directed to one annoying asshole.

It is ridiculous.

Kageyama’s face fades into a portrait in his mind. His expression scrunched up in its usual glower until it morphs into those hidden smiles he usually doesn’t realize he’s making when he and Shouyou practice their quick attack. Sometimes it makes him want to run up and steal it from his lips, but all he has ever done since the beginning of their partnership is run away from all... this; a reminder of one of the many weaknesses Shouyou wants to mold into something he would keep.

A rush of anxious euphoria washes over him. Maybe Kageyama won’t hate him if he does it.

He knocks on the door anyway.

* * *

 

Under the blazing heat of the sun, where he’s sweating a little bit too much for his liking and buying pork buns is when Hinata Shouyou realizes he is in love.

“Oi, dumbass, give me those,” Kageyama says, grabbing the bag of steamy pork buns that would have normally distracted Shouyou from anything the moment he has received them from him, however...

A ray of light hits Kageyama’s head, making his head glow like he’s Jesus Christ. It makes his hair seem like it’s covered by a halo of heavenly light. Shadows cover half his face, molding the visage of his expressions into some sort of angular solid figure Shouyou mostly sees in pictures on his history book. Although when he continues his strange analysis on how light forms its path on the map of Kageyama’s face, he realizes how smooth his skin is. A patch of light paints itself on the tan skin and Shouyou’s hand reaches out, fingers wanting to feel if the surface is as warm as his brain convinces him it to be. Momentarily, he catches a glimpse of Kageyama’s furrowing eyebrows and frowning mouth, but his fingers continue to go up, up—

There’s the sound of Ukai yelling, the captain shouting at one of the members of the team, the faintest gust of wind, and he quickly retracts his hand.

Kageyama takes a bite of his pork bun, pink mouth opening, his tongue darting out to lick away the sauce on his lips and Shouyou isn’t sure if he’s dead or having a gay awakening. Maybe both, he decides, when Kageyama repeats his previous motions, doubling the intense rush of heat that goes straight to Shouyou’s belly.

“ _Whaf if ef?_ ” Kageyama, the ever oblivious, tall dumbass that he is, asks. He’s talking with his mouth full and Shouyou questions whatever deity is punishing him why he finds this attractive, because he’s certain he shouldn’t. Because Shouyou may act like an uncontrollable ball of idiocy and constant illogical energy but he knows what’s best for him.

Kageyama is looking at him like he’s said something significantly absurd and Shouyou can only yelp in surprise, grab his bicycle, and dash away from the tall setter. The sound of Kageyama’s yelling falls incoherent on Shouyou’s ears as he speeds away.

* * *

 

“You’re so fucking stupid sometimes,” Kageyama says as Shouyou struggles to remove his shoes.

Rain continues to splatter outside. The house is dim, with only the murky light from outside bringing its source. Shouyou briefly reaches out and grabs hold onto the glass door as he finally manages to remove his shoes, placing them on the genkan.

“You’re the one who chased me!”

“Still stupid.”

“Where are your parents?” He asks Kageyama, entering the warmth of the room.

He hears a brief shuffling, a sigh, and then, “They’re on vacation.”

“To where?” Shouyou asks.

“I don’t know. I think it was at Shirahama.”

He raises his eyebrows and promptly turns to face Kageyama. “Whaaaaaat? And you didn’t come?”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Dumbass, I don’t want to miss practice.”

Shouyou grins. Trust Kageyama to go on vacation, he thinks humorously. He tries to picture Kageyama at the beach in swim trunks, wearing a flower-patterned top, probably playing beach volleyball. He’s too much of a volleyball idiot.

“Besides,” Kageyama continues, grabbing the back of his neck, and looking away, “practice is fun with you.”

Shouyou’s brain shortcircuits. “Oh.”

Practice is always fun, this is something Shouyou is always sure of. He likes the burning of his muscles, the fire in his legs and the sting on his palm. There’s always a sense of satisfaction in every spike he hits and receive he makes. There’s also the motivation that fuels him to do better, jump higher, run faster when he is on the court.

But practice with Kageyama is _phenomenal_. Everything seems to be on a different level of intense and Shouyou lives off of it. The beast in him craves the fervor of each toss. He wants to do more, more, and more until he has exhausted all the energy he has.

“Practice is fun with you too.” Shouyou says, filling the silence that has stretched between them.

 _It’s amazing,_ he doesn’t say.

Kageyama looks at him in surprise, and Shouyou feels his heart thump in his chest. He counts one, two, and three, until he loses the pace and falls into it instead.

There’s no heat present when Kageyama mutters, “Idiot.” But color rises to Shouyou’s cheeks at the fondness of how he utters it.

Smiling, Shouyou punches his shoulder. “Let’s get changed.”

“Don’t punch me unless you want to get hit, dumbass.”

* * *

 

The thing is, Shouyou isn’t sure if it’s the atmosphere or his body temperature that’s doing weird things in his body.

The weather today is nice. The sky is bright with clouds that minimize the blazing heat of the sun’s ultraviolence. It hasn’t bitten off Shouyou’s skin from when he has journeyed to his friend’s abode and he likes the soft, comforting touch of the breeze as he makes an attempt to forestall the tension growing within him.

However, he can feel the slick of his own sweat crawling down his spine as he waits for the door to open and reveal the still surprisingly clean living space of Kageyama’s apartment. His palms, which are usually dry unless he went out to go do something practice related, are a mess of wetness in between palmar flexion creases and Shouyou thinks he’s about to die from the parched outcome of nervousness and dominating trepidation.

 _Young volleyball dumbass passes away from the foreboding result of his confession_. What an absolute tragedy. There’s the guarantee of a number of individuals who might probably weep at the occurrence of his funeral, and one of the guests will be Shouyou’s dignity.

The door clicks and reveals the subject of his dilemma. Kageyama’s torso is bare. He steps out of the doorframe in his sweats, held in his hand is a bowl of rice while he takes a bit of his viand. He eyes Shouyou strangely. “ _What arf you doinf hef?_ ”

Shouyou smirks. “You should really learn to chew your food first, Bakageyama!” he chastises, watching Kageyama’s face morph into annoyance. “One day you’re going to choke and I won’t be there to save you.”

Kageyama pauses, swallows, and then hits him with his chopsticks. _Ow_. “As if you’d be able to.”

Shouyou scoffs. “Of course I can,” he grins. “You’d be around so I guess I’d be invincible, right, _right?_ ”

Kageyama hits him again, but this time the sharpness of his usual glower transforms into blunt bashfulness. “Shut up,” he takes note of Shouyou’s haggard frame. “Do you want to come inside?”

He’s welcomed with a cooler atmosphere once he enters. Kageyama heads to the kitchen while Shouyou stands confusedly at the entryway. The apartment is still, where the sound of Kageyama washing the dishes is the only source of noise, but Shouyou can hear the resonance of his uncertainty.

 _Is it too late to back out now?_ He asks himself as Kageyama steps out of the kitchen. His usual flat hair is sticking out in strange angles, which sort of resembles Shouyou’s definition of a customary look, and _goddamn_ does he look handsome.

“What’s up with you?” Kageyama asks, plopping himself on the couch, completely at ease. At the question, he looks at Shouyou inquisitively and frowns.

Easing his way onto the empty side of the seat, quite cautiously as to not startle himself, he merely answers Kageyama with a grin devoid of positive energy. It comes off as a grimace and Shouyou _fucking flinches_ at his own misstep once he sees Kageyama pull a face.

_What a way to be subtle._

“There’s nothing wrong, uh,” Shouyou begins, and notices the beginning of a breakdown the instant Kageyama stiffens when he makes an effort to reassure his friend. “I’m completely fine.”

“Sounds like bullshit.” Kageyama comments offhandedly.

Shouyou doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it is. “I’m telling you, I’m alright.”

He presses his lips together. Shouyou knows he doesn’t believe him one bit; Kageyama may be bad at academics, at making friends, or even talking in general, but he’s pretty damn good at reading Shouyou.

 _Lying is pointless_ , he thinks defeatedly. There’s a screen in his chest that Kageyama apparently has access to.

A sigh directs his attention. Kageyama sits upright and glances at Shouyou. “So,” he starts, “What were you going to tell me?”

“Oh,” _so much for compartmentalization._ With widened eyes, Shouyou’s brain suddenly feels like it has been enflamed. “I, uh, was –” he squirms uncomfortably, “thinking about wanting to...” he drifts off, tries for a quick conjecture for an alibi and immediately fails.

Kageyama looks at him uneasily, licking his bottom lip. “Wanting to do what?”

The concern in his voice directs all of Shouyou’s anxiety to the void in his own head. He shifts in his place and turns to look at his best friend. Kageyama is quiet distress and the current anticipating receiver of whatever Shouyou’s commentary will be. He’s patient, like that, for him, he supposes. His eyes are blown wide allowing Shouyou to see the blue that reminds him of the ocean most of the time. Kageyama might not know but Shouyou can count the tiny moles on the curve between his chin and jaw. There are three of them and they’re aligned like the traffic lights Shouyou encounters in his travel during weekdays during high school. It’s a stupid analogy but they’ve caught his eye once he took notice.

Shifting to the remaining space, Shouyou swallows the growing trepidation within him. He counts backwards and moves. “I wanted to–” Shouyou croaks out and Tobio freezes when the realization of their proximity hits him like Hinata’s horrible serve back in their first year.

“What did you want to do?” Kageyama asks, his eyes seemingly growing heavier as Shouyou reaches forward, nearly touching but not quite grasping the moment that is straining to slip away.

Kageyama’s hand slips through Shouyou’s arm and he holds on to his waist. There on Shouyou’s skin, he can feel it tremble and he realizes with hope washing the worry away from his heart, that _maybe_ , it really is okay.

Maybe it had been okay ever since.

When Shouyou pauses his pursuit for Kageyama’s lips, he hears him sharply take in a breath and Shouyou sighs, waiting.

“ _Dumbass_ ,” Kageyama whispers irritably, and Shouyou smirks, before he crashes their lips together.

There is the bumping of teeth and the weird sensation from the realization of having someone’s warmth being shared through a kiss. Shouyou has kissed and has been kissed in the past, but it’s nothing compared to the way Kageyama’s tongue searches for his own. Rather than the chaste touch of one’s lips, he receives a far better one and the worry that had overwhelmed him fades into content.

Sighing into his mouth, Kageyama pulls Shouyou closer. He bites his bottom lip and Shouyou gasps, surprised. Fingers climbing to pull at his dark hair, he chases the taste of Kageyama with his tongue. There are hands on his waist, his on Kageyama’s neck and Shouyou realizes with a laugh how dumb he was for prolonging this further.

Pulling away, Kageyama’s eyes are half-lidded and completely out of focus. There’s saliva collecting at the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, burying his head on Shouyou’s neck, heaving out an absentminded sigh.

Shouyou toys with his hair and doesn’t try to mask the happiness inside him. “I can’t believe we did this.”

Kageyama lifts himself up and offers him a small smile of his own and Shouyou has lost count of his heartbeat all over again.

“Me too,” he mumbles, burying his head once more. Shouyou can feel his lips quirking. “It was nice.”

“It was,” he replies, smirking, “you taste like Katsudon, though.”

Kageyama groans in embarrassment and Shouyou laughs. Kageyama pursues his delight with his lips.

He supposes nothing is complicated if he didn’t make it out to be.

**Author's Note:**

> this was an absolute mess but it was definitely fun to write :D


End file.
